Gang, in the world of current Trash Cinema I am seldom supremely impressed anymore. It’s easy to shock people or gross them out, but to entertain while doing so? Not since John Waters or Lloyd Kaufman have I seen a filmmaker who can pull it off so seamlessly. Enter, filmmakers Drew Bulduc and Dan Nelson and their exemplarily slice of down and dirty filth, The Taint. Not since Pink Flamingos have I been this genuinely entertained and repulsed by a movie. Here’s the low down…

The Taint is the story of a very different kind of apocalypse. The world’s water supply becomes tainted by a mysterious chemical which affects only men, making their cocks grow ridiculously large, spew goopy man milk through the air, and drives them to homicidal rage towards women, whom they dispatch in graphic, nasty, hysterical ways. We learn of this taint through an excellent opening credit sequences that explicitly shows the spread of the chemical agent through our world and just how vast it’s reach is. I’m not going to spoil it, but we do get to see just how and why this chemical agent was created and how it ended up contaminating our water supply. Trust me, it’s a story well worth witnessing.

As society collapses a handful of survivors must come to terms with this new world of brutal violence, constantly hard, violently ejaculating cocks and men who have become monsters, constantly looking for female skulls to crush. Two survivors, Phill O’Ginny (Drew Bolduc) a man-whore teenage skater who’s too cool for school and Misandra (Colleen Walsh) a shot gun toting, take no prisoners feminist badass must band together in the heat of this armageddon to do battle with the hordes of psychopaths, both tainted and un-tainted, and face down their personal demons in order to pave their own way in this terrifying new world order.

The Taint is the most brashly wonderful and original piece of trash cinema I’ve seen in what feels like an eternity. It is a film of uncommon grotesqueries to match it’s extraordinary intelligence. The jokes and gags are made so much stronger due to the wit behind them. Sure, you’re witnessing mindless death and destruction filled with puke, piss, shit, tits and dicks, but it’s all handled with such confidence and savvy, that it is goddamn impossible to not be thoroughly entertained. I could not wait to see where this fucking madman of a movie was going to take me next. The score, which is fucking spectacular and composed by Drew Bolduc, feels like a beautiful mix of John Carpenter at his very best mixed by Daft Punk and then fucked an 8-Bit video game.

The Taint never lets up, never slows down and is never short of incredible concepts, savage strangeness or fantastic energy. It feels like the most amazing backyard movie project ever filmed. There’s even an underlying and interesting subtext broaching such subjects as post-feminist society, misogyny and misandry in American culture. We watch as women are killed, their blood spraying through the air as men jerk off and laugh while watching. In another scene, a woman mentions how all men will eventually turn into this a monster, lusting after the destruction of women…and then we can;t help but laugh as a rock hard cock gets shoved through her skull and out her face before a young man packing heat blows the cock off and calls the cock wielder a misogynist. It’s ludicrous and hysterical but at least it’s trying to strike the conversation up. And for this, I totally commend The Taint.

I am in love with this film. I am going to go buy a copy, abduct people, tie them to the couch and make them watch it. Well, maybe just continually invite a steady stream of my Trash Cinema loving friends over to witness The Taint‘s greatness. If we still lived in a world with art house cinemas and drive-in theaters, The Taint would be an instant Midnight Movie classic. Why The Taint is not a sensation, I have no clue. But I will preach the gospel of The Taint to my last dying breath. Gang, this is Trash Cinema at it’s very finest. virtuoso filmic filth. YOU MUST SEE THIS! Find a copy, come over to my house, or attend a Trash Cinema Night at Bird’s Aphrodisiac Oyster Shack one day when we screen it. IF you love what Drive-In Movies once were, witness the second coming. The Taint is one of the funniest, nastiest, most ceaselessly entertaining flicks I’ve ever seen.

Hey Gang, if you will humor me for just one post I would like to make an attempt to express my love and admiration for a television show that served as one of the primary inspirations for The Trash Cinema Collective and The Primal Root’s Rotten Reviews. One of the funniest and most inspired comedy series to ever grace the boobtube. An unholy amalgam of science fiction, puppet show, Saturday horror matinee and sketch comedy show. It’s influence is still felt to this very day and it’s legend continues to grow by leaps and bounds. Today, this show turns 25 years old.

Of course, I am speaking of Mystery Science Theater 3000.

So, excuse me while I turn into a drooling fanboy and make a lame autobiographical post about how the show changed my life, shaped my entire being and get all sentimental. Read on if you dare…

When I was in first grade my parents decided to uproot us from Winter Haven, Florida, the town where I was spawned, and move us up North to the capital city of our rotted penis shaped state, Tallahassee, Florida. It was a pretty abrupt and unexpected change of scenery for me, one I resisted and revolted against with all my might. Having to leave behind my friends and everything I was so familiar with was a terrifying prospect. The idea of starting all over again in some new town, in a new school, with a bunch of new kids was enough to evoke the first panic attack of my young life.

Of course, as life teaches us, everything changes whether we like it or not. I adapted fairly well to my new environment thanks to my family, primarily my younger cousins Steven and Patrick, who I started hanging out with habitually just about as soon as I arrived, and some understanding, supportive teachers. There was also one other element that eased my transition and helped me to forget my woes over having been tossed headlong into this awkward, new phase of my life; a television show called “Mystery Science Theater 3000”.

Flipping through the channels one Saturday or Sunday morning I came across some cruddy old b-movie, with these funny little silhouettes in the bottom right corner. It looked like some regular Joe and a couple of funny looking monsters, or robots…maybe aliens? I had no clue. But as I listened it dawned on me that these little guys were doing what my Mom, Steven, Patrick and I always did over such cheese-ball entertainment…they were cracking jokes! And great ones! Sure, many of of them flew over my head, but a lot of the appeal had to do with their delivery. Soon, the little people in the movie theater row got up and walked out of frame and the camera pulled back through a colorful, fun assortment of doors and hallways leading back to a room where the three folks in the theater were suddenly right in front of me. I was soon acquainted with three captives on Dr. Forrester’s diabolical Satellite of Love (The S.O.L., for short) Joel Robinson, Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot. My life would never be the same.

Needless to say, I was hooked. My cousins and I would watch it just about every weekend and laugh our elementary school aged asses off at just about everything these jokesters said. I was never quite sure of the shows schedule in those days, but the chances were if I tuned into The Comedy Channel, later Comedy Central, during Saturday or Sunday, they would eventually be on the air. The premise was simple and spelled out brilliantly in the show’s opening theme song, here, I will let Joel explain…

The show was unapologetic in it’s silliness, boundlessly creative and unabashedly intelligent. To watch Mystery Science Theater 3000 you had to actively pay attention to the action on screen while simultaneously listening to Joel and his robot friend’s riffs and out two and two together in your own head. Sure, many of the jokes reference things you might not know about or not be in the vein of comedy specifically catering to your liking, but as Dr. Forrester and Crow T. Robot himself, Trace Beaulieu has stated in the past: “Hey, if you don’t like that joke, there will be another one in about 3 seconds.” The humor, jokes and references span an enormous spectrum so that there will always be something for everyone in each episode.

Across the board, the characters, puppets and all, were brought to life with such manic creativity and energy, you couldn’t help but pay attention. The host segments, the parts of the show taking place between the stints in the theater, often mocked the film’s themselves in the form of skits and small productions Joel and The Bots would put on for The Mads back down at Gizmonic Institute, later Deep 13…later Pearl’s VW van, later still, Pearl’s gothic castle. These segments also treated the viewer to the “Steampunk over a decade before Steampunk existed” set created with what looked like nothing more than garbage, junk purchased at the flea market, Styrofoam pillars and hot glue. It was the epitome of bargain basement, do it yourself creativity. They had a budget, they worked with the scraps they had and they ended up putting together a show with a unique, one of a kind appearance that looked like a million bucks, but probably cost as much as a dinner for two at Red Lobster.

Between elementary school and high school MST3K came and went in my life as I moved around a lot after my parent’s divorce. I collected episodes on VHS as I spotted them and would watch as often as I could depending on who our cable provider was. Call it luck or call it fate, I got the pleasure of seeing Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie during it’s initial run when it played in Dallas, Texas. I just happened to be in town for my older brother, Trey’s, college graduation and got to see this milestone in MST3K history in the company of my Mom and my late Grandmother affectionately known as Bobo. Hearing Bobo laugh as hard as I did through MST3K: The Movie, I often think she might have just been laughing at hearing me laugh, is one of my fondest memories I have with her.

I have since had the pleasure of meeting and shaking hands with many of the creators and talent behind Mystery Science Theater 3000 as well as experienced their riffing skills live and in person. I only wish I could put into words just how much their creation means to me. Some folks, their passion might be Dr. Who, others Star Trek or Firefly maybe even Battlestar Galactica. For me, my science fiction television allegiance will always belong to Gizmonic Institute, Deep 13 and Mystery Science Theater 3000. A show that has always had it’s heart in the right place, filled my life with laughter, brought my friends and family closer, influenced and inspired me in countless ways and always reminded us to “breath and just relax”. Not to mentions they had TWO final episodes and neither one of them sucked.

I am now an adult with a fireplace mantle decked out with every box set of Mystery Science Theater 3000 Rhino and Shout Factory have so far released and not a week goes by that I don’t watch at least one episode. Those guys and gals can still make me laugh all these years later. In fact, I would say they keep on getting better with age, which is no small feat.

To Joel Hodgson, Trace Beaulieu, Kevin Murphy, Frank Conniff, Mike Nelson, Mary Jo Pehl and the rest of the Best Brains Team, I thank you from the very bottom of my heart for creating Mystery Science Theater 3000. You’re show is an even bigger part of my life now than it was when I was a child. I’ve shared and introduced your creation to so many great and wonderful people who mean the world to me. Heck, the love of my life and I finally got together after months of being “friends” thanks to your outstanding short “Assignment Venezuela!” Who knew your brand of zaniness would inspire such a romantic evening with my very own Creepy Girl?

a Primal Root review as originally published in Tallahassee’s Capital City Villager

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before, okay, here goes. A jock, a slut, a pot head and a mousy chick decide to spend a weekend in the woods only things don;t go as planned as malevolent forces beyond their control put a bloody an unexpected halt to their fun filled outing. Sound familiar? To any fan of the horror genre the principle set up could be lifted from any one of the multitude of slasher films released between the late 70’s to today.

It’s the same formula that’s been set up, rinsed and repeated for generations. But this basic premise is where the similarities between “The Cabin in the Woods” and your typical teen body count horror films end and the inventiveness begins. This is precisely what makes the film such a tent pitchingly awesome treat for both hardcore horror fans and even general audiences who have, no doubt. become well aware of such genre tropes. Joss Whedon (the man behind the immensely popular and critically acclaimed “Buffy the Vampire” television show) and co. have created a horror film that not only includes all the fun, over the top brutal violence, imaginative creatures, and gratuitous tits and ass we’ve all come to expect and love about this type of flick but also imbues the picture with a wealth of knowledge about horror tales in general and uses that as a way to revitalize it by packing enough wit, brains and a plethora of unexpected surprises to keep even the most well versed fan second guessing themselves as to just what will happen next and what cliche will be chopped down and tossed onto the fire. As a connoisseur and life long fan of this well worn cinematic sub-genre, I am purposefully sidestepping any further mentioning of the veritable cornucopia of plot turns and unexpected twists, because to do so would be an unforgivable disservice to any audience plopping their asses down to view “The Cabin in the Woods” for the first time.

“The Cabin in the Woods” from writer Joss Whedon and director Drew Goddard completely annihilates every convention of the genre and reminds all of us that there are still avenues left unexplored in what some might see as an exhausted form of storytelling. It may only be a matter of story tellers hiking off the trail and further, deeper, into the woods.

Hey there folks, Uncle Grumpyfuk cumin’ right atcha 10-4 good buddies! I just got back from the local Cub Scout Jamboree, teaching those juicy young lads the safe and correct basics of leathercrafting and knot tying – valuable life-skills we adults should feel obligated to teach the young,velvet-skinned leaders of tomorrow, and as David Carradine taught us, we don’t want any embarrassing little accidents happening,no sir Grasshopper! The boys were great, their minds (and bottoms,heh!) are just like sponges at that age, just ready to soak up anything you throw at or on them! Mercy!
Well folks today we’re going to review an arousing little piece of horrific splendor entitled “The Horrors of Spider Island” or “How the Swiss Family Robinson Should Have Gone!”.
We begin with a righteous set of wheels pulling up to a building and a well-dressed couple gets out,the tension makes “Henry Portrait of a Serial Killer” feel like “Mary Poppins”,shit! The bright sunny afternoon and open air add to the ominous pall that creeps into our souls and private parts. We quickly gather that ‘Gary’, a twinkle-toed Italian guy with impressive man-boobs, and Georgia, a woman with less than impressive woman-boobs are two agents contracted by Zepo Marx to secretly hire a troupe of transvestites for a dancing tour of Singapore to contract the deadly Unmellow-yellow Mono-gono-rhea and return home to infect the unsuspecting American public. I know,I know, I wish I’d thought of it too but we gotta give credit where credit’s due, sigh…
We’re introduced,one by one to the ‘girls’ and Uncle Grumpyfuk has to admit,they look and dance even better than Rupal on muscle relaxers so ships ahoy! we can easily envision some some happy ass Singapore sailors in the near future- eight eager trannies looking good enough to where a couple of bottles of Boonesfarm and some horse tranquilizers could make for an evening of serious potential blackmail material! ..heh!…ahem…aaanyway..
The group boards a small twin-prop airplane and after taking off and traveling a good ways over the Pacific it transforms into a much larger 4-prop bomber, pretty cool I must say. They suddenly begin to take flack from a small island below,the Japs who had diligently waited for the cursed Yanks since the war began in ’43. They were right on target and the bomber takes a nosedive into the drink,exploding like Justin Beiber’s cherry at a John Waters sleep-over, and all lives are lost. …except for our entire group of she-males, their manager and his assistant, who all managed to bail with a life-raft, landing in it one by one so that they all escaped possible death and a certain wetting.
Hair implants still in place they drift for days and days thousands of miles out to sea, even though there’s a rock sticking out of the water to the right. After some unruliness on the part of a dark shaggy brute that goes by the moniker ‘Linda’, Gary is forced to establish his dominant pimp-status and, as punishment, throws all of ‘Linda’s’ amil nitrates into the water,enjoying ‘her’ wails of despair. He then has to put his foot down again and set Jersey Joe, or ‘Babs’ straight after catching ‘her’ rubbing the mouth of the water bottle on ‘her’ crusty anus for laughs. Finally submission is achieved, gotta keep those man-bitches in line yes-siree!

After many days,drifting tens of thousands of miles out to sea one of the guys spots our movies’ namesake, Spider Island…well, actually there are two islands,they don’t tell us which one is Spider Island and they don’t tell us the name of the other island, and it will haunt me ’til my dying day,what was the name of the other island?! Sand Flea Island perhaps? An island inhabited by a mad scientist and his genetically mutated, radioactive sand fleas, as big as spaniels, who he loves as his own children! … I’ll never know.

When they reach the island the ‘girls’ begin to whine and carry on like typical queens and Gary is even forced to carry one of them ashore after discovering ‘she’d ‘ taken half a bottle of Nyquil. They collapse on the beach and after a spell Gary whips them into order and marches them off to explore the island. They moan and whimper until Gary spots a condominium in the distance,orfices quiver however upon entering they find an old bondage slave trussed up like Marilyn Manson at his 10th birthday party, however this old chili-dog knave was deader than a living carbon-based life form no longer imbued with life.

The trannies bolt as one, prancing about ,hamming it up to the umpteenth degree just like real women do,while Gary and Georgia, upon closer inspection deduce that the eunuch’s master had taken things a little too far (wink!) and his heart and left testicle had simultaneously exploded. Unfortunately the cabin reeked from the old slave’s bowels releasing and Gary forces the gagging yammering fudge packers to clean things up. They submit readily enough, quietly hoping for the murderous master’s return in anticipation of a fight with Gary for control of their leathery anal cavities, but no sign of any other people soon dampen their hopes.
After about 2 minutes a fight breaks out over someone’s mention of cellulite and those two blokes go at it like cats, woo-hoo!! I mean they even fight like women(!),slappin’ and rasslin’ about, pulling hair, damn if the ol’ pickle didn’t stiffen a tad! Gary breaks it up, showing once again who’s the boss and tells them they BOTH need to lose some weight! Ha! You ‘da man Gary!
Suffering from serious stress due to pharmaceutical withdrawal and lack of anal deposits has the group’s nerves on edge,and combined with the tropical heat they begin to disrobe. Now I gotta tell you, you’ve got to be impressed with the skills of plastic surgeons and reluctantly admire the dedication of these guys to starve themselves and keep so thin and feminine-like, the ol’ zipper is straining once again I gotta tell ya’! To add to the nuance, while this is going on some of the best soundtrack music of all time begins to play, that saxophone sounds like it’s spooging all over the front row of the audience by golly! I can’t wait ’til this comes out on cd!
Meanwhile Gary, exhausted from his busy pimp duties finds the condo owners Glock 9mm automatic,which he refers to as a revolver, ( hey, pimps don’t have to be smart just forceful right?) and takes off into the woods for a little walkabout. As he walks about he’s plagued with huge sand fleas ( yeah, uh-huh, right!)…and while he’s swatting at one on his temple, with his gun hand, he manages to decorate the surrounding foliage with small bits of skull fragments and brain matter, leaving our rugged manager a tad dazed and confused. He proceeds to wander off in search of zinc and Bob from Sesame Street, leaving the insecure girly-men alone to fend for themselves.

The next morning the guys put on their makeup, split up and search around fruitlessly (ha, get it?) for Gary who has meanwhile found his way back to the condo and unfortunately stumbles upon ‘Linda’ whom he gleefully forces to bob for river rocks, indefinitely! He then then spots Tiny Tim floating on the horizon, motioning him to come to him and wanders into the ocean never to be seen again until his next film.
The girls give up looking for Gary after a good 20 minutes of searching and after 3 more hours finally find the condo where they find the buoyant ‘Linda’ still bobbing for river rocks. They run in circles and shriek until they get tired and as they sit and continue to wail and carry on Georgia digs a deep grave in the rocky baked earth. Arnold or ‘Anne’ see his chance and stands at the edge of a cliff, totally faking it, until the others finally notice and ‘save’ him, fawning over him and carrying him back, fucking attention whore.
Unrest follows the leaderless group and soon Jersey Joe and Murray are at it like pro rasslin divas, and they may be guys but wow it’s more stimulating than a weeks’ worth of episodes of Romper Room! Then they see Gary’s hands come through the window as he tries to snatch a tampax but he disappears as quickly as he appears.
After a few sticky weeks a pair of Mary Kay reps motor up to the island and as soon as they unload their gear the older Moe heads down the path to the local hacienda to engage the occupants to the wonders of the Suckiu Vacuum Cleaner. As soon as his partner is out of sight the younger Bobby heads through the brush to the back of the compound and waits until Moe has the owners distracted. He then plans to sneak up behind the unsuspecting patriarch and finish him off with razor wire before he even suspects his adopted children will soon be orphans once more,for a short time anyway for then the pair plan to help themselves to the contents and occupants of the house for dining and sport (wink!). My kinda guys, eh folks?!? Yeah,ha-ha!

However just as Bobby begins to leave the boat he hears the unmistakable sound of men giggling and after climbing a slender tree trunk several times to get that ‘good feeling’ he climbs a larger tree overlooking the sunny lagoon and what do his horny eyes behold but several of our troupe of trannies splashing around in the shallows, washing the filth from their bodies and scouring the crusty scabs from their rank and pock-marked anuses with the fresh stinging salt water! Sha-wing!
Driven to near hornyological hysteria he sneaks down to the edge of the rocks where Gregory, or ‘Gladys’ has drifted away from the others. Bobby tazes him violently and while still spazzing like my neighbors cat in the bug zapper! …would probably look, you know, if it hit the bug zapper, heh…ahem, yes..anyway the other guys who only hear the commotion bolt like party-goers at Corey Haim’s most recent shindig leaving Bobby and a still twitching ‘Gladys’ alone to become acquainted with each others’ back sweat,(winky-wink!).

The guys all join up in the woods and the wetter ones begin to tell of ‘Gladys’ fate when they hear Moe coming down the trail singing that song, you know, that song …by that hot chick with the brown hair..YOU KNOW…that song!!! Shit! Anyway after capturing Moe and forcing him to lick Georgia’s still unwashed twazzer to prove he’s a friend they lead him towards the condo for humiliation games and s’mores! Bobby and a shaky ‘Gladys’ soon join the group and the party,she is on!

The guys dress up in their Singapore Island Whore hula-hoochee girl outfits and damn, the horse tranquilizers wouldn’t even be necessary! It’s a South Sea Sausage Fest, crabs for free, with raunchy saxophone lounge music and drunk swinin’ trannies, yee-haw!! Well Moe and Bobby spend the evening taking turns abusing the giggling choad worshipers purty mouths until Bobby is lured into the bush with a promise of candle waxing and crystal meth.

Unfortunately on his way to the lagoon Bobby falls to his knee- years of cheap cigarettes, rotgut island rum, stimulants, depresents and an addiction to monkey adrenal gland pancakes, courtesy of IHOP, have taken their toll and he lays projectile vomitting all of the precious alcohol and monkey glands he’d just consumed, and continues to do so until reduced to a withered corpse that bears a striking resemblance to a male Joan Rivers. Things are also not going so well back at the condo either.
After dining on lobster marinara the guys are sitting around comparing califlowers when Butcher McCree, or ‘Teena’ leaps to his feet and starts raving about fiddler crabs with Sharon Ozzborne faces and suddenly dashes out of the cabin,into the woods. The shocked group look at one another when they one by one begin to also feel a bit queasy and anti-gravitational.

Apparently the canned mushrooms that ‘Babs’ used in their meal were 2 weeks out of date and the hallucinatory effects were beginning to make themselves known…good deal!! Sadly ‘Teena’ wasn’t aware and the guys decide to try to find him before he hurts himself,it’s his turn to wash the dishes anyway! They light torches and join in pursuit of their addled member but are quickly distracted by the killer trailers produced by the torches they were all carrying. As they run in circles whirling the torches around and laughing, poor ‘Teena’ runs head on into some quicksand and hastens his demise attempting to dive for pearls. The guys laugh it up and head back to the condo,finishing the night out by tying up and buttfucking poor Moe. Then we see a ship sailing off.

The end.

Truly a great film, I was momentarily confused by the end credits,what with the womens’ names,then I thought about it, duh, stage names! Sorry folks,brain fart. Well I guess ol’ Grumpyfuk is going to jump online and check out hottrannies.com and see what there is to see! I’m used to them a bit younger,I do love my veal but we must always be open-minded and always try to experience and bugger new things in life! Ariba!
Take care folks, Uncle Grumpyfuck will be back atcha soon with another sharp and insightful critique of another golden piece of spider poop! I’m outta here!
In retrospect I guess the reason they called it Spider (singular )Island must have been because there was only one spider.